


Of Red Cards and Internet Girls

by lumaste



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumaste/pseuds/lumaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando feels bad after getting a red card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Red Cards and Internet Girls

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble written for [this prompt](http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/9132.html?thread=2589868#t2589868) at [footballkink2](http://footballkink2.livejournal.com). Fernando Torres comfort after [the red card](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko6wqg_RG3Q) in the match against MU.
> 
> This fic is pretty old too and a few things have changed since then.

Fernando jumps to his feet as soon as the coach and the team enter the changing room. “I didn’t dive,” he says looking at Robbie. 

“I know, Fernando,” Robbie says wearily, casting a brief and tired glance at his direction. 

Fernando slumps on his seat again and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to no one in particular. He gets no answer.

***

He doesn’t leave with the team. Doesn’t want to meet their eyes again – some accusatory, others sympathetic, a few even gloating. Isn’t ready for it. Thinks he’ll never be.

“You sure?” Juan asks with a friendly pat on his back. 

“Yeah, I just want to be alone for some time,” Fernando tries to smile, “My house isn’t too far, you know.” 

“Nando, it’s not your fault we lost. Please remember that.” 

“I will,” Fernando lies. 

Juan shakes his head, ruffles Fernando’s hair and leaves.

***

Fernando is wondering aimlessly in the corridors trying not to think about anything, not to think about his failure, about mocking articles that are going to be published tomorrow, about transfer window. He fails. He fails even at that, he smirks bitterly.

He’s already going to leave when he hears a soft voice from behind, “F-Fernando.” 

Fernando turns back. David De Gea is standing in front of him leaning on the wall with a small smile playing on his lips. 

“What are you doing here?”, Fernando asks coming closer. 

“I asked the gaffer for a day-off,” David says, “Wanted to see London.” 

“London is beautiful, but not like Madrid,” Fernando says. But not like Liverpool, he thinks. 

David gives a warm smile at the mention of Madrid. 

“By the way, great game, kid,” Fernando tells him. “You’ve got a bright future ahead,” he says. Not like me, he thinks. 

David blushes and looks at Fernando with shining eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I can’t believe I hear this from Fernando Torres!” 

The words spill out of Fernando’s mouth before he can stop them. “Which Fernando Torres?” he says, “The one who got red-carded and left his team in nine? Or the one who can’t score a shit despite the fifty millions paid for him? Maybe the one who fucks up every chance his teammates create for him?” 

“The one who became Atlético’s captain at nineteen,” David says seriously, “The one who broke Liverpool’s goal-scoring record. The one who made it to the shortlist of the world’s best players.” 

“You’ve followed my career pretty closely,” Fernando smiles. 

“Because you were my hero,” David says, “You’re everyone’s hero at Vicente Calderon.” 

David is looking at him with big, bright eyes and Fernando feels how his words are warming up his heart. “That Fernando Torres is dead and forgotten,” he mumbles, “Now you’re left with this one.” 

“It doesn’t matter, Fernando,” David says and puts his hand on Fernando’s cheek, “You’ve achieved so much. No one can forget it. Everyone loves you.” 

Fernando lets out a hollow laugh. David comes closer and puts his other hand on Fernando’s cheek. 

“Yes,” he insists looking into his eyes, “Your family and friends love you. Madrid loves you. Liverpool loves you. London loves you. Crazy internet girls love you.” 

Fernando notices David’s heavy breathing. His cheeks are flushed, but his eyes are burning with a strange light. 

“Liverpool hates me,” he whispers, eyes cast down. There is a lump in his throat he’s unable to swallow. 

“That’s because they loved you like crazy,” David says, “Much like the internet girls.” 

Fernando laughs genuinely for the first time in the evening. 

He looks up and sees David’s eyes right in front of him. The strange light is still there and it hypnotizes Fernando, doesn’t let him look away. He feels the light penetrate his soul, melt the ice that was making him shiver. He feels like he’s covered in a warm and soft blanket and nothing in the world can hurt him anymore. He doesn’t know how long they stand like that, but when David speaks again, it makes Fernando jump. 

“And last but not least,” David whispers, “I love you.” 

And with these words he kisses Fernando right on the lips. Just like that.


End file.
